


Absolute Beginners

by jnic84



Series: Second Chances [2]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Captain America - All Media Types, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Bucky Barnes Feels, Bucky Barnes Recovering, Civil War, F/M, Protective Steve Rogers, all the feels
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-19
Updated: 2016-05-03
Packaged: 2018-06-03 05:04:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 13,676
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6597835
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jnic84/pseuds/jnic84
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bucky is trying to save himself. You are trying to save yourself from heartbreak.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Part 1/6:

 

Waiting was the hardest. You weren’t good at just sitting around with nothing to do. There was no database to hack and no mission to plan. Steve and Bucky were somewhere in Brooklyn, as Steve took another shot at jogging Bucky’s memories. It wasn’t the smartest thing to be doing at the moment. The government considered them all fugitives and if they were spotted, it would only bring about chaos. But Bucky wasn’t good at sitting around either. He was growing listless, stuck in this safe house. Steve was so sensitive to Bucky’s moods, that he was willing to forego safety if that meant keeping Bucky happy.

So off they went.

You missed the old Avenger’s facility. At least there, when there was nothing else to keep you occupied, you could go train. Space was limited here and all the rooms were currently occupied. You and Wanda bunked together in one bedroom, Steve and Bucky in another, Scott and a begrudging Sam in the third, and Clint in the attic. Even here Hawkeye needed his own nest.

Tired of being seated, you took to pacing the floor. Sam was out with Scott getting basic necessities and the house was quiet. 

“You worry,” Wanda mumbled as she stepped gracefully into the living room. Her movements always tended to look effortless. You envied her that.

“Going out is dangerous,” you nodded, not halting your stride. “Especially considering Steve’s idea of a disguise is a hat and glasses.”

“I hear it works for some heroes,” she shrugged as she rested on the arm of a chair. “But that is not what I meant.”

“What did you mean?” you eyed her speculatively.

“You worry about him, the Winter Soldier,” Wanda said softly, “and her.”

Your footfalls came to a halt and you bowed your head. Sometimes you hated Wanda’s powers. You knew she tried to do her best to not abuse them, but she was something of an empath and she once told you that when stressed or emotional, peoples’ feelings practically screamed at her. It was hard to ignore.

“I’m not worried, because it’s none of my business,” you sighed. 

“You fear you cannot compete with the Black Widow,” she ignored your feeble protest. “But you do not need to. It is no competition.” 

There was a bang as the back door opened, Steve and Bucky shuffling through and into the kitchen. Steve argued that using the back door would draw less attention to the house. 

“Can we drop this?” you hissed, eyes darting to the kitchen. Wanda frowned but reluctantly nodded.

“Everything alright?” Steve asked, looking to you and Wanda. The tension in the air was palpable and it had the Captain concerned. Bucky stepped up behind Steve, eyeing the two of you with slight anxiety.

“We’re fine,” Wanda assured him, but her displeasure was evident. Nodding toward you, she moved toward the stairs and your shared room. 

Steve’s attention returned to you and he raised a brow in askance. You rolled your eyes, “You look ridiculous,” you snorted, waving a hand at his glasses and baseball hat. Steve gave a small smile and took off his disguise. Glancing at Bucky, who was still wearing his own cap and a bulky coat, you said nothing and walked around him and into the kitchen.

Bucky wasn’t used to feeling much in the way of emotions anymore, but he felt a sting of discontent. You always used to comment on his hobo look, as you called it, whenever he and Steve would come home after a day spent attempting to blend in. The past few days you had taken to overlooking him, and that wasn’t like you. He was pretty sure Steve had noticed your change in attitude as well; if his troubled gaze fixed on your retreating back was any clue. 

“Anything happen while we were gone?” Steve asked casually as he and Bucky moved to follow you, watching as you filled a glass of water for yourself.

“Sam and Scott went to the grocery store, but they should be back soon. And Sharon Carter called,” you added, smirking at the light blush on Steve’s face at the mention of Agent 13’s name.

“What did she want?” Bucky wondered gruffly. He wasn’t that interested in what Sharon Carter had to say, but it forced your attention to him. Your eyes met his momentarily before turning back to Steve.

“She has some information on a previously unknown HYDRA base, she thinks it could be important. I’m going to meet with her tonight in the city.” Steve looked unhappy.

“You shouldn’t go alone.” You shook your head in bemusement.

“I’ll be fine, Dad,” you gave a short laugh. “I am a trained spy, you know. Fury-approved and everything.” 

“We’re prime targets right now,” he argued, and Bucky found himself unconsciously nodding in agreement. “I’d just feel better if everyone stuck to going out in pairs.”

“Fine, I’ll drag Clint with me. He’ll just be happy to get out of this house,” you sighed, knowing Steve only wanted to protect you all. He still blamed himself for this whole mess. He needed to realize you were all here because you believed in him, in what was right. He wasn’t responsible for this disaster, but you believed he could be the one to ultimately end it. 

“Thank you,” Steve relaxed, giving your arm a squeeze before walking out of the kitchen and up the stairs. 

The kitchen was uncomfortably silent. You took a long sip of water and studied the glass intently. Bucky studied you.

“He’s tired,” Bucky said quietly, looking to the stairs where Steve had just been. Glancing back at you, he saw your worried frown. “He forgets, you know. When he takes me back there. He forgets that they’re his memories too. Takes a lot out of him.”

“Is it helping? The visits, I mean,” you bit your lip anxiously. You had been trying so hard to avoid Bucky, and thereby all the feelings he stirred in you, but you couldn’t ignore him this time. You were sure that this had to be the first time he truly spoke to you, not just at you or through you. Not just inconsequential hellos and reluctant truths. 

Bucky shrugged. “I remember his mom, Steve getting in fights all the time, her stitching him up when he forgot to dodge a punch. But it’s all—jumbled. I—he goes back there and sees me, sees us. I go and I see nothing.” 

The disappointment was coming off him in waves and tugged at your heart.

“He’s changed, you know,” you tried to comfort him, placing a tentative hand over his own. “He may remember Brooklyn, but he’s grown and had to go through a lot. He’s not the same exact Steve from before. Just like you’re not the same Bucky. But here’s the beauty of that,” you smiled as Bucky tilted his head curiously, “he doesn’t care. He just wants his friend. You’ve both changed; you’re both soldiers out of time. But you’re Bucky and he’s Steve, and to him that’s all that matters.”

Bucky gave you a half smile, timidly lacing his fingers with yours. You looked at your joined hands, your heart beating a mile a minute and a pit in your stomach. You had been doing so well, keeping him at a distance. But you had a hard time convincing yourself to stay unemotional when Bucky Barnes was holding your hand and looking at you so sincerely. You squeezed his hand reassuringly and then let your fingers untangle from his own, taking a step back.

“I should see Clint,” you stammered, fidgeting, “fill him in about tonight.” Bucky remained silent, studying you. You nodded to yourself and headed for the stairs. Your head was all over the place and you needed to take a breather. 

Clint wouldn’t be the only one happy to get away from this place tonight.


	2. Chapter 2

You stared out the window of the car Steve had recently ‘borrowed’, enjoying the flurry of lights passing by. Clint was behind the wheel, and you could tell he had something he wanted to say. Since you were pretty sure what it was about, you continued to focus on the view. 

“Why do you always get to drive?” you sighed with a tiny pout. 

“Seniority,” he chuckled. “Not to mention, last time you were in the driver’s seat, you totaled the SUV that Fury had just upgraded.”

“A bad guy blew it up, how is that my fault?” you huffed. He grinned and shook his head, and you both fell back into a comfortable silence.

“So when are we going to talk about Nat?” Clint interrupted your thoughts with unwelcome bluntness.

“How about never,” you replied with a hard glance. “It’s not a big deal.”

“I heard what she told you,” he ignored your attempt to move on from the question. “And I know you, you like to let things stew. But that’s only going to make it worse for you in the long run. So talk to me,” he prodded.

“Fine,” you bit out. “You want the truth? I think I like Bucky. Sure, he’s lost and kind of broken, but so are the rest of us. He’s got a good heart. The relationship he and Steve have, I haven’t seen anything like it. And that’s even without his memories. He’s brave and handsome, and…am I ever going to tell Bucky that I might have feelings for him? Hell no,” you laughed derisively.

“Why not?” Clint pressed in what you liked to refer to as his ‘dad voice’.

“So many reasons,” you frowned. “He’d probably think I’m crazy. And things would only get super awkward between us when he turns me down. The team is fractured enough as it is, we don’t need more infighting and strain.”

“Why are you so certain he’d turn you down?”

“I seriously doubt dating is a priority for him right now,” you smirked. “And let’s take a look at his ex. Natasha Romanoff. She’s smart, strong, beautiful, deadly…I could literally go on all day. You know her, Clint. She’s practically perfect. There’s no competing with that. Heck, I’m tempted to date her.”

“I know Nat,” he argued, “and yeah, she’s a badass. But she’s not perfect.”

“Well, I said practically,” you muttered, and Clint laughed at your childish response.

The car came to a slow stop as Clint pulled into a spot along the side of a busy street. “All right Debbie Downer, we’re here,” he announced. “I’ll finish bolstering your self esteem after we wrap this up.”

“Whatever you say, Hawkeye,” you rolled your eyes. Double-checking the weapon discreetly strapped to your hip, you shared a look with your partner and then, waiting until there was a break in traffic, stepped out of the car. 

“She’s already here,” he kept his voice low as you wove through pedestrians towards the little coffee shop you had decided to meet at. Your eyes scanned the surrounding area, keeping a look out for anything or anyone suspicious. You could never be too careful these days. And you didn’t have to psychic to know that Clint was doing the same.

Your entrance into the café was thankfully uneventful and you slid into a seat at the counter beside a deceptively bored looking Sharon Carter. Clint took the seat on your other side.

Without looking up from her cup of coffee, Sharon slid a folder towards you. You nonchalantly slipped it off the counter and handed it to Clint, who stuffed it into the hidden pocket on the inside of his jacket. 

“Wait five minutes after I leave, then go,” Sharon mumbled, sipping at her coffee. When she was finished, she placed the mug on the counter and tucked a five-dollar bill under the edge for the waitress. Gathering her purse, she hopped off the stool. “And say hi to Steve for me.” You hid a smile as she turned and left the café with no fanfare. 

“Well that was thrilling,” Clint grumbled. “Tell me again why I needed to be here?”

“Because Steve’s a worrywart and I enjoy your company,” you grinned, which he returned with a dopey grin of his own. 

“At least they have croissants here,” he shrugged, “so this isn’t a complete waste of time. They better be chocolate.” 

“Ever the optimist,” you chuckled. The archer raised his hand to get the waitress’s attention, and in that moment all hell broke loose. 

The sound of gunfire dropped you to the floor, Clint beside you in the blink of an eye. The large window in the front of the coffee shop had been completely shattered and glass rained down on unsuspecting patrons. The shop hadn’t been busy, thankfully, but a young woman crouched in the corner near the entrance caught your eye. You crawled toward her and were able to convince her to follow you to the counter where she could shelter in place. You used your body to shield her as you lead her to relative safety.

Clint was doing his best to get everyone out of the way of the hail of bullets and your adrenaline raced as you scooted toward the front of the shop. Using a small strip of wall between the entrance and the window as cover, you unsnapped your gun from the belt at your waist, and took a deep breath as you switched the safety off. 

But just as fast as the gunfire started, it came to an end. You shared a wary look with Clint, unsure if you were truly safe now. Ignoring Clint’s protests, you spun toward the window, gun at the ready, where nothing but frightened pedestrians greeted you. Whoever had just tried to kill you was nowhere to be seen. 

You ran out the door, stepping outside and into chaos. People were screaming in fear, some putting pressure on wounds that thankfully didn’t appear fatal. You could hear Clint telling people to call 911, but your eyes focused on the buildings surrounding you. You studied the roofs and windows for any sign of a shooter, but came up empty. You could hear some people muttering about a man in black, but you never got a look at this mysterious person.

Feeling a hand on your arm, you spun to see Clint, wide eyed. The sound of approaching sirens could be heard in the distance.

“We need to get out of here,” he grunted. He was obviously reluctant to leave the wounded unattended, but staying here would only end in their arrest. They wouldn’t be good to anyone locked up in cell. You nodded and strained your gaze to find your car in the ever-growing crowd.

“Um, slight problem,” you muttered, getting Clint’s attention. You pointed in the direction of your ride. “It’s riddled with bullet holes, the tires are flat, and—is that an X spray painted on the hood?”

“Shit, come on,” he cursed, taking you by the elbow and directing you to a side street. “We’re going to need to ‘borrow’ another car.” 

The two of you wove your way through alleys and side streets, waiting until you reached a quieter part of town where no trace of sirens could be heard. Clint surveyed the handful of cars parked along the street, shaking his head ruefully at beat up Honda. “Unlocked,” he nodded to you, and you climbed into the passenger’s seat while he worked on starting the car.

The engine started up after a moment and Clint shifted the car into gear swiftly. There was tense silence as you started to make your way back to the safe house. 

“Steve is going to kill us,” you sighed, letting your head fall back against the headrest. 

“You’re not wrong,” he grimaced. He glanced towards you as you approached a red light. “You’re bleeding,” he hissed, eyes narrow as he spotted blood on your shirt. You followed his gaze, and noticed the fresh would on your shoulder. The dark color of your jacket had been hiding most of the blood from view, and the endorphins in your system must have been numbing the pain.

“It’s just a flesh wound,” you assured him, grimacing slightly as you tore off a bit of your shirt and pressed it into the wound. 

“Have fun explaining that to Steve,” Clint frowned. 

“Can you take the metaphorical bullet for me and be the one to tell him?” you whined. You had been shot after all, didn’t that merit a little sympathy?

“Not going to happen,” he smirked tiredly.

“But—” your argument was cut off swiftly.

“Nope. Seniority, remember? This one’s all you.” With a displeased grunt you settled back into your seat. So much for sympathy.

 

Clint cared very little for stealthiness at the moment, considering one of his teammates was hurt. He didn’t bother entering through the back of the safe house, but instead led you inside the front door. He spotted Steve sitting on the couch, Bucky in the armchair on a few feet away, but he had looked away before he could see Steve’s expression of displeasure turn into shock.

“What happened to you?” the Captain demanded as he jumped up from his seat. His gaze had fallen on the numerous scrapes dotting both your faces from the shattered glass. Bucky’s eyes zeroed in on your shoulder.

“You’ve been shot,” he said softly, his hands gripping the arms of his chair so tightly that the seams began to tear under his metal one. 

Steve’s eyes darted to you and then there was movement everywhere. Steve was leading you into the kitchen, ignoring the inquisitive looks from Sam, Scott, and Wanda who had been seated at the table finishing their dinner. Clint was headed for the closet where they kept the first aid and medical supplies. Bucky hovered behind Steve, keeping a watchful eye on you as his best friend sat you on the counter and gently began to peel off your jacket. 

“It’s not that bad,” you tried to reassure him, but Steve’s frown never wavered. You glanced at Bucky for help, but he made no move to calm his friend, and instead just crossed his arms defiantly. 

“The bullet exited,” Steve mumbled to himself as Clint returned with the supplies. He grabbed the scissors and cut your shirt from the sleeve to neck, swatting your protesting hand away. He started to clean your wound and you found your eyes glued on Bucky as you tried to ignore every flinch of pain. 

Clint, apparently deciding seniority be damned, told the group about what happened while Steve worked on cleaning and bandaging your shoulder. 

“I can hack into the grid,” Scott offered, “see if any of the city’s cameras caught our bad guy.” Steve nodded in agreement and Scott set off immediately to his laptop. 

“You said there was an X on your car?” Bucky frowned. You nodded. “I…it doesn’t sound familiar,” he admitted in frustration. He had so many gaps in his memory that he was unsure whether or not this X should hold any significance to him. 

“We’ll figure it out, Buck,” Steve said as he finished the last of your bandaging and took a step back. 

“At least we didn’t come back empty handed,” Clint sighed, removing the folder Sharon had passed along and dropping it unceremoniously onto the kitchen counter. With a glance from Steve, Sam grabbed the folder and started to look through its contents as he headed up to his room. Wanda, tired of the tension in the room, took her leave as well. 

“Get some rest,” Steve said to you, his voice rough but his expression soften the blow. He was worried. “We can talk more about this tomorrow.” You gave a weak smile. That was not going to be a fun conversation. In fact, the words I told you so were bound to feature in some form or another. 

Turning to Clint, Steve clapped him on the shoulder and led him back into the living room as he spoke softly. The Captain was undoubtedly having Clint go over his account of the night once more. Steve was nothing if not detail oriented. 

Hopping off the counter, you went to reach for the cabinet where you stashed your pain meds, but your shoulder objected. Seeing you flinch, Bucky gently moved you to the side and reached into the cabinet, handing you the aspirin bottle. 

“Thanks,” you murmured, feeling exhausted. The adrenaline was leaving your system and your body was not enjoying its departure.

“You should sleep,” he said softly, head bowed and his hair obscuring his face. You nodded, sleep sounded like a wonderful idea. “Do you—do you need any help? Getting to your room, or with your…” he stammered, gesturing to your torn up shirt. His small show of nerves took you by surprise.

“Wanda can help me change, and after that I have a feeling I’ll be out like a light,” you smiled kindly. “But thank you,” you added, giving his arm a soft squeeze. Bucky gave you a small half smile. 

And you had been right, the second your head hit your pillow you fell into a deep sleep.


	3. Chapter 3

Part 3:

 

It had been a week since you and Clint had survived that surprisingly harrowing trip to the coffee shop. The team had looked over the files Sharon had smuggled to them and the lead looked promising. The HYDRA base certainly appeared, on the specs alone, to be sprawling and extensive. Readings from the area determined that a great amount of power was being drawn into the facility. Something important had to be going on there. Considering how scattered the majority of HYDRA was after the fall of the Triskelion, the existence of such an active base was concerning. But Steve wasn’t comfortable making an attempt on it without more information.

Sam, Scott, and Clint had been tasked to scout the area. While they were gone, Wanda kept busy honing her powers. Normally you would volunteer to help her, but working with Wanda came with a small chance of injury and Steve wasn’t about to allow you to hurt yourself further.

You and the Captain had many arguments on the subject. While, yes, you were technically still healing from a gunshot wound, the injury wasn’t extensive and the pain was manageable. You understood that it would be smart to take it easy on yourself so as not to jeopardize any future mission you might be needed on. You weren’t trying to push yourself.

But Steve was dead set against any kind of training or sparring, with him or anyone else on the team. It had been a minor victory the day he let you go for a run, even with his huffing and tutting. 

You had tried to gain the others’ support in getting Steve to relax your restrictions, but so far they had proved useless. Bucky adamantly supported Steve and just gave you a stern look of disapproval any time you attempted to sway him. You never knew one person who could make you feel so guilty with just one look, besides your mother.

Wanda had one go at talking to Steve, but was influenced by his usual moving speech about caring too much and what’s best for the team. And Scott had too much of a man-crush on Steve to openly disagree with him. He looked almost eager to leave for a HYDRA base when the opportunity arose to get away from all the discord.

Needless to say, you were bored and going stir crazy. Your mood was growing darker as the week dragged on with little communication from Falcon and Hawkeye.

On Sunday morning, everything changed.

You were grateful initially when Sam radioed in and announced they were on their way back with big news. You grew a little anxious when Steve began to look extra serious while on the phone with Clint, even more so when he stepped away from the rest of the team to speak privately. You shared a nervous glance with Bucky, but Steve’s return broke your gaze. 

“They’ll be back in an hour,” Steve announced, “and they’re bringing a—guest.”

That is all he would say on the matter before taking Bucky’s arm and leading him away from the group, with a studiously blank expression. Something was wrong. Whoever was coming had Steve on edge, and when something made Captain America uneasy, it was the cue for everyone to be prepared.

You had never been the most patient person. Waiting for the boys to come back felt like forever, especially given the solemn look on Steve’s face and Bucky’s vacant expression. Your eyes were glued on the door the second an hour had passed and didn’t leave it until a few minutes later when the handle began to turn.

A tired looking Sam walked inside, behind him a weary Clint. The archer turned to someone following him, speaking lowly, and you found yourself standing on your tip toes to see past Sam to whoever Clint was talking to.

You truly hadn’t been expecting Natasha Romanoff. 

Steve rose from the chair he had been sitting in; nodding to Sam and sharing a long look with Clint. This must have been what they were discussing earlier. Normally, bringing Natasha in on a mission was standard fare, but considering the deep divide in the team now, all of you were leery to trust her. Even Steve, who considered her a close friend, eyed her apprehensively.

“Well this is uncomfortable,” Nat said in greeting as she stepped past the threshold and into the safe house. Looks like after this mission was over, they’d need to find another place to crash. It wouldn’t pay to have Tony’s team find them. 

“Clint said you might be able to help,” Steve said reservedly, arms crossed. Bucky wouldn’t even look in her direction. Clint stood at Natasha’s side without hesitation, while Sam dropped into the nearest chair, too wiped out for all this drama. Wanda just watched the exchange with wide eyes. You were unnaturally still where you stood.

“This is bad news, Cap,” Clint sighed. “Tony might not be ready to mend fences, but we could use all the help we can get. Nat’s solid, you know that.”

“I don’t doubt her capability,” Steve murmured, “but her loyalty. You chose your side,” he turned to Natasha, “and it wasn’t mine.”

“This is bigger than that,” the redhead declared. “Your fight with Tony, the Accords, this is worse. You need help and I’m here to give it. Besides, you think I’ve never played both sides before?” she smirked.

“Fine,” he agreed, a part of him relieved to have the Black Widow on his team once more. “What exactly did you find?”

“You know how most of the bases we’ve come across since D.C. have been run by a bunch of amateurs who never learned how to shoot? Not this one,” Sam frowned. “It’s big, probably bigger than we thought. There’s a good bet that it goes several stories into the ground. And the security is tight. But that’s the least of our problems.”

“I was able to get inside with a little…creative maneuvering,” Scott joined in. “And it wasn’t pretty. Like a science experiment gone horribly, horribly wrong.”

“What was it?” Steve pushed for answers.

“Immersion tanks,” Clint replied, side-eyeing Bucky anxiously. “At least fifteen, maybe more. And they were occupied. By him,” he added, pointing toward an increasingly angry looking Bucky.

“What?” Steve asked incredulously. “They can’t—he’s Bucky. He’s here with us. There’s no way—,” he stumbled over his words. 

“They’re clones, man,” Sam grunted. “They look younger, I don’t think HYDRA has had the opportunity to take them for a test drive yet. The way I see it, when the Winter Soldier started to show signs of going AWOL, they stepped up their game. They wouldn’t need Bucky if they could just create ten more of him in a lab.”

“Jesus, Mary, and Joseph,” Steve cursed, running a hand over his face. 

“What do we do?” Wanda broke the uncomfortable silence following that revelation. 

“Kill them,” Bucky’s hard tone didn’t surprise you. 

“Buck, we can’t—,” Steve cried, but Bucky’s dire expression stopped him.

“Trust me, you’d be doing them a favor,” he grimaced, before turning on his heel and stomping up the stairs and slamming the door of his bedroom behind him.

“I—we can talk more later,” Steve’s shoulders deflated and his arms fell to his side. “You guys get some rest,” he looked to Sam, Scott, and Clint. “I need some air,” he muttered to himself as he threw on a hoodie and rushed out the front door. 

Knowing you were in for a long night, you stepped into the kitchen, watching the boys head upstairs. Clint gave you a small smile, glad to see you moving around with less pain, before disappearing up the steps. 

Starting up the coffee maker, you looked up to find Wanda joining you. Glancing back into the living room, you noticed Nat was missing. You looked to the stairs and swallowed uncertainly. Wanda could feel the tension coming from you, but said nothing. Instead she moved to your side and rested her head on your shoulder. 

Sometimes actions meant more than words.

 

 

Bucky didn’t move at the sound of his bedroom door opening. He remained motionless on his bed, eyes staring blankly up at the ceiling. 

“You don’t look so good, soldier,” expecting Steve, Bucky’s head turned in confusion at Natasha’s voice. 

She didn’t take it personally when he failed to reply; instead she closed the door and took a seat on the desk chair beside Steve’s bed. 

There was a long stretch of silence where Natasha was left to study Bucky, and Bucky chose to study the wall.

“You don’t remember me, do you?” she sighed, unsurprised.

“I don’t remember a lot of things,” he said softly. “Should I?” 

She shrugged. “We were—not allies—but not enemies, once.”

“Was I…me? Or was I him?” he wondered. It was strange, the way he could essentially divide himself into multiple personalities, multiple people. There was Sergeant James Buchanan Barnes, who grew up with Steve and had a happy life. There was the Winter Soldier, who was nothing more than a puppet and a killer. And there was him now. He still didn’t know who he was supposed to be. Not James, but not the Soldier. Somewhere in between. Just Bucky, he guessed.

“Neither?” she reasoned, her mouth downturned with slight disappointment. “But mostly him.” 

Bucky nodded. “I’m sorry…if I did anything…to you,” he gave a timid apology.

“You didn’t hurt me,” Natasha assured with a tight smile, “not physically, anyway.” That didn’t exactly make him feel better. 

The bedroom fell silent again, the strain lessened but still present. 

“I just…need to know something,” Nat forced herself to say. Bucky shifted on the bed, sitting up and looking her in the eye. “Do you…feel anything for—,” she found herself unable to say your name. “I mean, can you feel anything like…affection? After HYDRA?”

Bucky’s expression was pensive and his gaze moved to the floor. The silence went on, becoming awkward, and Natasha took that as a sign to throw in the towel and call it a night. She stood and headed for the door, stopping when she heard his voice.

“I…can,” he admitted, and her head dropped minutely in resignation, “I do.”

Nodding to herself, Natasha stepped out into the hall, closing the door behind her. 

Clint was watching her from a couple doors down, and gave her a reassuring smile when she spotted him. 

“Come on, Red,” he extended a hand to his friend, leading her toward his attic nest. “I think tonight calls for booze.”

 

You and Wanda didn’t bother with conversation. Leaning against the kitchen counter, you quietly sipped your coffee and contemplated what life would be like now that Natasha Romanoff had returned to the fold. 

It used to be that having Natasha around made you feel confident. The Black Widow always made you feel like you could conquer the world. She was so strong, capable, brilliant, and bold. 

And then came Bucky, and the rift between the Avengers. And now that Natasha had been labeled an enemy, her presence no longer boosted your confidence, but made you feel inadequate. It wasn’t her fault and you certainly didn’t blame her for it. But feeling second best is always terrible, no matter the reason. 

Wanda straightened, lifting her head from your shoulder and tilting it curiously, like she was listening to something. A moment later, a small, pleased smile touched her lips. She turned to you, grinning at your curiosity and confusion. “Take heart,” she whispered as she placed a friendly kiss on your cheek and sashayed out of the kitchen.

You only wished you knew what had made her so happy.


	4. Chapter 4

Part 4: 

 

Steve had grown increasingly solemn since talks of the Accords began, but you hadn’t seen him so truly disheartened until now. Bucky was insistent; the clones had to die, there was no alternative.

“They’re people, Buck,” Steve disputed cautiously; he knew Bucky had the potential to lash out if triggered. And unfortunately this conversation was bound to be laden with triggers. “We can’t just kill them.”

“They’re not people,” Bucky pushed back, jaw clenched. “They’ve never even left those tanks they’re submerged in. They’re science experiments.”

“So was I, once,” Steve reminded him gently. You shook your head softly. It was a worthy attempt, trying to remind Bucky of their past, but his memories were still checkered and HYDRA was the only thing he was really clear on. 

Bucky and Steve were standing on opposite sides of the living room, both with their arms crossed and defensives up. Nat was hovering in the doorway of the kitchen, ready to jump in if things looked like they were about to get out of hand. Wanda sat nervously in the armchair, feeling out of sorts from all the tension in the room. Sam had perched on the arm of the chair beside her, trying to calm her nerves. And you, Scott, and Clint were left sitting on the couch, watching the argument almost like a tennis match. 

“They deserve a chance,” Steve tried again.

“They won’t get a chance, and you know it,” Bucky shut him down. “If we leave them as they are, they’re going to be nothing but HYDRA’s slaves. And if we run in and rescue them, then what? You really think what’s left of SHIELD won’t swoop in? You think they’d let the opportunity to get their hands on a dozen super soldiers pass them by? They’ll never be normal. They’ll never have a life.”

“You have a second chance at life, Buck,” Steve pleaded, “why shouldn’t they be given one too?”

“What life?” he scoffed. The pain etched on his face made everyone in the room want to flinch. “Both HYDRA and SHIELD are trying to capture or kill me. The most vivid memories I have are of killing people. All of you are in hiding because of me,” he finally broke off his stare with Steve, looking piteously at you. “Wake up, Stevie. This isn’t living, this is hell.” 

Hearing him admit his torment made you look away in sympathy. Your eyes somehow found Natasha’s and you shared a somber gaze. There was one thing you could both agree on: if there was a way to help Bucky, you’d move heaven and earth to do it. 

“It’s time to face the truth, punk,” Bucky murmured, and you all began to feel like you were intruding, “some people can’t be saved.”

“Doesn’t mean I’ll stop trying, jerk,” Steve replied with a watery half-smile. Bucky wanted to smile in return, but his heart wasn’t in it. “If this is what you think is best…I don’t have to like it, but I’m with you. ‘Til the end of line.”

At this Bucky did give a tentative smile, and Steve released a breath he didn’t even know he was holding. 

“I guess we should get to work,” Steve sighed, turning to Clint, Scott, and Sam. “You three know the layout the best. We need to go over entrance and exit points, come up with a solid plan.”

“We can head up to the nest,” Clint offered, “I’ve got most of the blueprints and files spread out already.” Nodding in agreement, the foursome headed for the stairs. Steve would need Bucky’s input eventually, but he knew his friend needed some space at the moment. 

Bucky collapsed onto the couch, taking over the spot next to you were Scott had been. He sat forward, head in his hands.

Nat observed him furtively before turning to Wanda. “Come on, Maximoff. We’ve got some catching up to do,” she grinned. Wanda smiled up at her and stood, following Natasha’s lead and moving up the stairs.

The silence in the living room was deafening. Bucky was beside you, in obvious turmoil, and you weren’t sure how to make it better. You had made such an effort to keep your distance from him that the idea of actually talking to him felt uncomfortable. Which made you feel terrible, considering how badly Bucky needed comfort now. 

“Steve’s not going to give up on you,” you finally said, and Bucky turned his head towards you. “Never going to happen. You might as well stop asking him to,” you gave him a teasing smirk. “And that goes for the rest of us.”

“Then you’re all crazy,” he grunted, flopping back and sinking into the couch cushions.

“We aren’t all in this line of work because we’re the most stable or normal people,” you laughed. “We’ve all got a bit of a hero complex. We all want to save people, from organizations like HYDRA, or even themselves.”

“And what happens when you can’t?” he wondered.

“Then we pick ourselves up, dust ourselves off, and start over again,” you shrugged. “It’s not painless, but it’s the life we’ve chosen.”

“Not everyone chose this life,” he reminded you.

“I know,” you admitted with a frown. “You were kidnapped, Natasha was practically born into it. But you both made decisions along the way. You chose to be different, to not be what they made you. That makes you one of the good guys now.” 

“I don’t really feel like a good guy,” he admitted, and your heart broke for him.

“Believe or not, I know a lot about you, Bucky Barnes,” you elbowed his side playfully, trying to get him out of his funk. He raised a skeptical brow. “Steve told us all about you, all of your adventures back in the 30s and 40s. He pretty much worshipped you. The way I hear it, you saved him countless times. Not just from the bullies around literally every street corner though. But seriously, was Steve actually beat up on every street in Brooklyn? Because that’s a level of stubbornness I didn’t think was possible,” you chuckled and Bucky cracked a smile.

“It’s almost like he enjoyed getting punched in the face,” you laughed with a shake of your head. “But protecting him from a bunch of jocks, that’s the least of it. You watched out for him. You took care of him after his mom died. Forget the serum, you’re what made Steve Captain America. He was just a mascot until you went missing. You made him a hero. To Steve, James Buchanan Barnes is the hero. He wouldn’t be the man he is today without you.”

“That guy doesn’t exist anymore,” he tilted his head to face you. “The things I remember, it feels like I’m watching someone else’s life. None of it feels real. I don’t know if I can be the man Steve wants me to be.”

“Listen,” you turned to him, tentatively taking his hand, “You aren’t James Buchanan Barnes anymore. But you aren’t the Winter Soldier. He had no thoughts, or dreams, or hopes. He was empty. You are Bucky. You’re making a new life for yourself. And that’s okay. Because one day this mess will be over with and the government will back off, and Tony will see reason, and HYDRA will be gone, and you’ll get the chance to really discover who Bucky is now. And Steve will be right there beside you the whole time,” you assured him, and he unconsciously tightened his grip on your hand. 

With his eyes staring desperately into yours, you felt your heartbeat speeding up. This felt like one of those times, those little moments life gives you to take a chance and if you didn’t go for it you might regret it. You were almost sure you were going to regret this, either way, but Bucky needed to hear it. He needed to know.

“I will be right there beside you too,” you confessed with some hesitation, “If you’ll have me.”

Bucky didn’t know what to say. He knew he should say something. He could see the hint of pain in your face, but his mouth would not move.

After a long beat, he broke your gaze, looking down at your hand clasped in his own. You could feel the anxiety brimming in your chest, threatening to choke you the longer he remained silent. 

“I—,” you stammered, gently prying your hand away from his, “I just thought you should know. That I care—about you, I mean. I may not always be the best at showing it but—look, if this makes you uncomfortable, I get it,” you gave him a wobbly smile, but he never looked up from his lap. “No harm, no foul, right?” you laughed darkly, shaking your head to yourself. You knew this was bound to be a disaster.

You stood swiftly, and Bucky’s eyes finally darted back to your form. “I, um, should check in with the guys,” you nodded toward the stairs. He licked his lips nervously but still didn’t say a word. Taking that as your cue, you hightailed it up the stairs and into the attic at a speed that would have rivaled Pietro. 

Bucky felt ashamed, and he stifled a groan as he closed his eyes. He could tell that it took a lot for you to admit that you felt something for him. And he wanted to echo your words, to reassure you that there was no need for embarrassment or fear. But how could he? You should be afraid of him. He was afraid of himself.

“You want to tell me what you did, Barnes?”

Natasha made her way down the stairs and stood in front of him, legs spread shoulder’s width apart, arms crossed, and expression curious.

“I nearly collided with your girl in the hall, and she looked like she couldn’t get away fast enough,” she explained, looking down on him with a raised brow.

“She’s not my girl,” he mumbled, clenching his metal fist.

“Let me get this straight,” she rolled her eyes. “You like her, you admitted as much. And I’m guessing she finally admitted she likes you. So why is she walking around like someone kicked her puppy?”

“She told me—she cares for me,” he sighed.

“And what did you say?” she drawled.

“I…um, nothing,” he muttered, looking anywhere but at Natasha’s accusing face. 

“And why, for the love of god, would you do that? Are you trying to make yourself miserable?”

“She shouldn’t—care about me,” he argued, finally meeting her gaze. “I’m a monster.”

“You’re an idiot,” she retorted.

“Why would you want me to be with her?” he demanded to know. “You said I hurt you. Why would you want me to do that to someone else?”

“Bucky didn’t hurt me, you didn’t hurt me,” she conceded, admitting that to both him and herself. “I met the Winter Soldier. Whatever happened between us, that’s on him. And you aren’t the Winter Soldier. Not anymore.” 

He was taken aback by her conviction. 

“Redemption is a pain in the ass, believe me I know,” Nat commiserated, “you’re going to need friends, people who love you, to help you. Don’t push them away. If you do you’ll only have yourself to blame when things go sideways. It’s not easy. I forced myself to open up to Clint, to put trust in Fury. And they managed to pull me out of a dark place. They didn’t save me, they helped me save myself.”

He had been convinced that he’d never be able to save himself, to reclaim any part of the old Bucky that had been lost for nearly 70 years now. But Natasha’s sincerity touched something in him.

For the first time he could remember, Bucky was beginning to feel hope.


	5. Chapter 5

Part 5:

The team, minus Clint and Natasha, had piled into a van procured by Scott and were headed to a deserted location about twenty minutes outside of the city. No one spoke much, too tense for the upcoming fight to bother with idle chatter. Sam was driving, leaving Steve in the passenger seat. Scott was lounging quite comfortably across the third row of seats, legs draped over the bags full of weapons and ammunition needed for the mission and head propped up on Wanda’s lap. This left you and Bucky seated awkwardly together in the second row.

You could feel Bucky’s eyes on you for much of the ride. It had been like that for the past few days. As you would walk around the house, doing your best to avoid being left alone with the former Winter Soldier, you swore you could feel his eyes following you.

Once or twice you caught him staring, but then his eyes would dart away and he would fidget uncomfortably. He seemed to be working his way up to something, but what you couldn’t imagine. To be honest, if he was just trying to figure out a polite way to let you down, you weren’t that interested in hearing it.

Sam pulled into an alley surrounded by old hangars and open airfields. The airport had shut down over fifteen years ago, but the buildings remained. He parked the van in one of the hangars, giving them a bit of privacy.

Natasha and Clint were waiting just outside the hangar, standing proudly next to one of SHIELD’s old Quinjets.

Eager to escape the confines of the van, you threw open the side door and jumped out, leaving the boys to deal with the cargo.

“So how’d you get your hands on this?” you smirked, eyeing the jet appreciatively. You had been on the run for so long now and hadn’t been able to make use of the technology that once belonged to SHIELD in far too long.

“Tony acquired a few of the jets after SHIELD was dismantled,” Nat explained. “He was interested in upgrading them, see what he could do with them now that Fury wouldn’t be around to tell him no. I merely…borrowed one.”

“How pissed is Stark going to be when he realizes what you did?” you grinned in amusement.

“I expect a lengthy and absurd lecture,” she shrugged with a smug smile. “Nothing I can’t handle.”

“Seriously Nat,” you sighed soberly, “if the government finds out you’re working with us, things could get ugly.”

“I’ve been in worse scrapes before,” she assured you with nonchalance. “Let me worry about the consequences.”

The boys were done grabbing everything from the van, and Clint helped them store it all in the jet. Steve motioned for everyone to board and you followed Nat inside, taking a spot near the front where the mission table was set up.

With the jet door closed behind the team, Steve set up position at the table, where the blueprints for the HYDRA base had already been uploaded and were now on display. The team crowded around the display, Natasha on your left and Clint on your right.

“Considering the number of HYDRA agents stationed here, the first priority will be containment and elimination. Sam will take the air, make sure that no one is getting overwhelmed by incoming soldiers. Clint, we’ll drop you on the roof. You can help Sam control the numbers from above.” Steve turned to you with a stern expression, “I want you with Clint,” he said softly. You were about to argue but he cut you off.

“I know you normally work the ground with Romanoff, but you’re still not 100%. Your wound will slow you down. I don’t want you getting hurt because you’re stubborn,” he ordered, sounding very much like the Captain he was. Reluctantly you nodded.

“Wanda, stay by the tree line. Give yourself some protection while you take these guys out. Buck and I will work our way inside after we clear out the first couple waves of soldiers. Nat, I want you in front, helping to clear a path. Scott, I need you to get to the base’s hard drive, we need all the information we can possibly get on HYDRA’s operation before we blow the place. Take Wanda with you for backup. Bucky and I will set up the explosives, concentrating most of them in the labs. Once we all clear out, Sam will grab (Y/N) and Clint, and then we detonate. Understood?”

Everyone agreed with the plan and Clint headed to the pilot’s seat to start the engines, Wanda following him. Scott joined the archer in the front of the jet, eager to get a look at all the controls. Nat joined Steve and Sam off to the side to talk tactics, which left you standing by yourself.

Feeling self-conscious, you moved towards the middle of the Quinjet, taking a seat along the side. You reached for one of the cargo bags, opening it up and beginning to divvy up the weaponry.

You could feel the presence of one of your teammates at your side, and heard them quietly take a seat beside you. You knew it was Bucky. He was hard to mistake. The sheer bulk of him was enough to identify him. But the silence was most telling. Steve was positively chatty compared to his best friend.

“I’m sorry.”

Well that was unexpected. You turned to glance at Bucky. His head was down, but tilted slightly to face you. His shoulders were a little slumped and he appeared to shrink into himself.

“For what?” you asked in confusion. There wasn’t anything he really needed to apologize for. You had made an offer, and he had refused it in not so many words. Sure, it hurt, but you hardly had the right to demand an apology from him.

“For last week,” he mumbled with an apologetic glance. “I should have—It’s hard,” he tried to explain. “I should have said something. When you—You deserve better than that. Than me.” 

“Bucky…” you bit your lip, feeling terrible for working so hard to ignore him all this time.

“I used to be good at this,” he gave a sad smile, “talking to girls. At least that’s what Steve says. Now I’m—broken.”

“So is Steve, and Nat,” you reminded him gently. “We are all a little bit broken. Doesn’t make us bad people. We all have a past, but we don’t have to define ourselves by it.”

“My past makes me dangerous,” he said gruffly. “I’m not safe.”

“Bruce Banner is pretty much a ticking time bomb,” you remarked with a raised brow. “But even he doesn’t have to live his life alone and locked away. You can learn to cope, with the memory loss, the triggers, all of it. There are people here who are willing to help, you just have to let them.” Your gaze wandered to Steve and Natasha. They were Bucky’s best bet at a somewhat normal life. You had tried to offer your help and he had turned you away. Maybe it was best to leave it to his best friend and former paramour.

“Steve knows everything about you, any question you need answered, he’s got it,” you added. “And Nat knows what it’s like to be made into a weapon. She knows about starting over, creating a new life for yourself.”

“And you?” he asked softly.

“What about me?” you wondered.

“You said you would help me,” his gaze fell to his hands in his lap.

“Uh…if you want me to?” you stammered, surprised by his statement.

He nodded shyly.

“Okay,” you smiled nervously, not quite sure what you were agreeing to. To help Bucky? To be his friend? Or more? “Steve can help you with your past. Nat can help you set up your life here. And I can…I could help you find out who Bucky is? I mean, not James from the 40s or the Winter Soldier. But who you are now. Who you can be.”

“I would like that,” he admitted, granting you a shaky smile.

“We land in twenty,” Steve interrupted, taking notice of how close the two of you were and the soft expression on Bucky’s face. He gave you a grateful look, and moved to unload the rest of the cargo.

Seeing that it was now time to suit up, everyone aside from Clint moved to arm themselves and finish donning their uniforms. You and Bucky worked silently side by side to prepare for the mission. Watching him get ready, you lost count of how many weapons he had strapped to himself.

The Quinjet landed in a clearing not far from the base, but far enough not to attract too much attention. Clint grabbed his bow and arrows and joined the group as the bay door began to lower.

“Remember the plan,” Steve said quietly. “Bucky, Nat, Scott, Wanda, and I take the ground. Sam, take (Y/N) and Clint to the roof.” Everyone nodded as Scott to ahold of Clint first, and on Steve’s signal they began to move out. You were forced to wait near the jet for Sam’s return. Your unhappiness was obvious, but as Bucky moved past you and his hand brushed yours, your frown disappeared.

“Be safe,” he grunted, before jogging up to meet Steve.

“You too,” you murmured, but soon enough they were out of sight and could not hear your soft voice.

The sound of gunfire made you anxious, and you searched the sky fervently, relieved when you finally spotted Sam. Landing in front of you, he extended his hand and offered you an excited grin. “Hold on,” he warned as you took his hand and he pulled you in tight before taking off like lightening.

The roof of the facility soon came into sight. Clint was standing with one foot on the roof’s edge as he fired arrows into the stream of soldiers below. Nat, Steve, and Bucky were doing their best to keep the enemy crowded into the entrance of the base, limiting their numbers. Wanda was easily disposing of anyone who broke the line. As Sam dropped you next to Clint, the archer fired an explosive arrow that sent a group of soldiers flying.

It felt strangely like target practice from up there, you thought. From the ground, the fighting was much more intense. While reflexes still needed to be quick, the relative safety of the roof gave you a sense of detachment you weren’t sure you liked.

Soon enough, having taken notice of the snipers on the roof, men came pouring out of the roof access, and you moved to cover Clint as he continued to fire on the ground. The narrow stairwell to the roof kept you from being overwhelmed by targets, and Sam gave cover fire when you needed to reload.

“We’re going in!” Steve shouted over the comms. “Keep the exit clear,” he ordered as Nat lead the team inside.

Gunfire and clanging of Steve’s shield could be heard, but you remained calm. As long as no one was calling for help, everything should be fine. Still, being so removed from the action made you antsy.

“Shit, we’ve got incoming,” Sam swore, and you threw your head back to see what he was talking about. A helicopter was incoming. That couldn’t be good.

Clint’s lips thinned and he grabbed another explosive arrow. You and Sam were already firing, but making no real progress in taking the copter down. Clint let his arrow fly and it landed near the tail of the aircraft, exploding on impact. The helicopter began to spin and you saw one body throw itself out of the copter before it crashed and released a ball of flame.

“We’ve got a runner,” Sam announced, and you turned to fire on the man now walking away from the wreckage. He was armed to the teeth and covered head to toe in black. He was obviously wearing body armor. Your bullets didn’t seem to faze him at all.

“Who the hell is this guy?” Clint growled. The man in black’s helmet covered his entire face and head, but an ominous skull had been painted across it. And your heart dropped when you noticed the X on his chest. This had to be him, the man in black, the one who tried to kill you and Clint.

Clint couldn’t get a good angle on him to fire his arrows. The fire was obscuring his vision and the man was now too close to the entrance for them to see. Making an impromptu decision, you checked your weapon to make sure it was fully loaded, and then did the one thing you weren’t supposed to do: disobey the Captain’s orders.

“Sam, get me down there! Now!” you yelled over the comms.

“Falcon, disregard her,” Steve grunted through static.

“We’ve a got a new player in the game,” you hissed. “And he’s coming your way.”

“Then we’ll handle it,” he replied swiftly.

“Sam, come on!” you pleaded, but he was too reluctant to go against Cap’s wishes. You turned to Clint, who was still eyeing the flames pensively. Turning off your comms, you put a hand on his shoulder, a determined expression on your face as he looked to you warily.

“You know they need help,” you prodded him. “Please.”

Clint didn’t look happy, but he fired an arrow into a tree below, extending a zip line. “Don’t make me regret this,” he grumbled. You squeezed his shoulder appreciatively as you threw rope over the line and allowed yourself to be carried to the ground. You landed and rolled to break your fall, grimacing slightly as your shoulder met the earth. Turning your comms back on, you started running toward to base entrance.

“(Y/N)’s on her way to you,” Clint announced bluntly, and you ignored the sound of an angry Steve as you ran after the man in black.

There were bodies strewn around the halls. Those with their necks in odd directions had obviously met with Natasha. And at the end of the long hall was the mystery man. You raised your gun and fired, hoping that lessening the distance between you and your target would leave him vulnerable. Instead, you watched as the rounds pinged off him uselessly. He raised his arm and you could see the muzzle of a gun appear above his fist.

You dove to the side as he fired, managing to scramble into a small lab whose door had been left open. Slamming it behind you, you did your best to push over a heavy filing cabinet in hopes of barring the door enough to keep him out.

“Shit, Steve, he’s covered in body armor, my bullets aren’t hitting at all,” you ground out, “and he’s fully loaded. You guys need to plant the bombs and get out of there.”

“Where are you?” Bucky’s terse voice surprised you. He almost never spoke over comms.

“I’m laying low in a lab not too far from the exit. I can make it out, don’t worry about me. Just go!” You cringed when you heard gunfire, scrabbling backwards as the filing cabinet was riddled with bullets. One swift kick later and the door to the lab slammed open, sending the cabinet flying off to the side.

The menacing figure stood in the doorway, and from the tilt of his head you felt him regard you with something akin to amusement.

“If you’re going to kill me, just do it,” you hissed, your hand moving slowly to the knife strapped on your back. There had to be a vulnerable spot in his armor. Some place small where a knife could slide in.

His deep laugh made you sneer. His hands reached for his mask and he removed it with little fanfare, exposing his scarred flesh and dark grin. “Don’t worry, kid. I’m not here for you. You’re just the bait.”

“Rumlow,” you derided, hearing Steve’s sharp intake of breath in you ear. “You look well.”

He didn’t appreciate the sentiment, rushing forward and pinning you to a table at your hips. You could hear glass falling and breaking behind you as you swung your arm around, knife in hand, aiming for his side. He grabbed your wrist with his left hand, slamming it on to the table. You fought to keep your grip on the knife as he put more pressure on your hand. His free hand came to your neck, pressing down on your windpipe as he pushed your back on to the tabletop. The awkward angle you were in left your legs floundering for purchase.

You began to see spots in your eyes as the pressure around your throat increased, and you pried at his hand fruitlessly. Your eyes darted around the room helplessly as your vision began to fade. Your heart beat loud in your chest and you could hear the rush of your blood in your ears. Disoriented, you could have sworn you saw a flash of silver behind your attacker just before your world faded to black.


	6. Chapter 6

Part 6:

 

Your return to consciousness was jarring as your body fell to the floor abruptly. Your head hit the tile floor leaving you feeling nauseated, but your body was so happy to able to breathe air again that the majority of your pain and discomfort could be ignored.

Holding your hand to your head with a groan, your attention turned to the men fighting in front of you. Bucky was vicious, attacking Rumlow without hesitation, doing his best to slam his metal fist into Brock’s head. But Rumlow had been prepared for the Winter Soldier. His gear kept his protected from most of the body shots Bucky hit him with, and the number of weapons attached to his suit made him a constant threat.

Brock had made one mistake though. His desire to showoff, to mock her for falling into his trap, left him vulnerable. While his body was covered in flexible armor, he had taken off his helmet, leaving a sliver of his neck exposed.

A sliver is all you needed.

With Bucky distracting Rumlow, you used the lab table to pull yourself off the floor. The change in position made your knees feel weak. Pressing forward, your eyes scanned the table, lighting up when they fell on the knife you had dropped in the scuffle. 

The fight was getting worse by the sound of it, and you involuntarily flinched at the sound of a body slamming into a wall. You hoped Rumlow had been on the receiving end of that.

You grabbed the knife, testing your grip on the handle so you wouldn’t drop it. Spinning around, your stomach sank when you saw it was Bucky who was busy picking himself up off the ground.

Knowing the Winter Soldier would recover swiftly, and no longer in a mood to play, Rumlow raised him arm and took aim.

Your movements felt like they were in slow motion. You recognized that gesture, knew what would be coming after, and there was little chance that Bucky would be able to dodge the bullets in such a confined space.

Running towards Rumlow, his wide back facing you, you leaped, locking your legs around his hips and wasting no time in sliding the knife into his neck. You sent the blade deep, through the muscle, paying no mind to the spray of blood that showered your face.

Rumlow gave out a primal growl, and with his last bit of energy, pulled the trigger.

You heard Bucky’s pained grunt and your face paled. Your eyes found him on the floor of the lab, clutching his abdomen and breathing hard.

“No, no, no…” you cried to yourself, feeling suddenly numb. Your legs dropped from Rumlow’s waist and you gave his body a shove, not bothering to watch his now lifeless form fall into a heap at your feet.

“Bucky,” you ran to him, dropping to your knees at his side. Seeing that Rumlow wasn’t a threat any longer, he slumped onto the floor, lying face up. You gently pried his hand away from his wound, heart pounding at the sight of blood pooling below. 

“You’re going to be fine,” you said firmly, unsure if you were trying to convince him or yourself. “We’re going to get you out of here and we can…” you stumbled over your reassurances, realizing there was a flaw in your plan. You weren’t part of the Avengers anymore. There was no state-of-the-art facility to retreat to, no high tech medical bay just waiting for your arrival. “You’re going to be fine,” you found yourself repeating, hoping that it was true.

“Steve,” you mumbled, finally remembering your Captain, “Steve!” you yelled across the comms, “Bucky’s down. I need help…please…”

His reply was a short curse, and you were worried he was going to take to long to find you. The pounding of footsteps in the corridor brought with them relief. You knew the sound of Steve’s booted run anywhere. 

Steve nearly tripped over Rumlow’s body, splayed as it was so near the entrance. He paused at the sight of your face, covered in blood and eyes wide with panic. But he shook himself out of shock and ran to Bucky.

“I’ve got you, Buck,” he said resolutely, slipping one hand under his shoulders and another under his knees. “Grab me that lab coat,” he ordered without even looking your way. You moved quickly, tearing the coat off it’s hanger, “Press it to his wound,” you nodded and did as he said. 

You should have done that before Steve found you. It was common knowledge to stop the flow of blood from a wound. But your adrenaline was pumping, making you sloppy. It was times like this you wished once again that you were more like Natasha. She would have been cool, calm, and collected. She wouldn’t let panic get the best of her.

Steve pulled you out of your thoughts when he lifted Bucky. Any other day and Bucky would be teasing Steve for nearly carrying his bridal style, but today he simply grimaced and allowed Steve to carry his weight without complaint. 

Nearly out the door, Steve halted, calling your name when he realized you were still on the kneeling on the floor. You jerked to attention, rushing to follow the Captain.

“The charges are set,” Steve reported, to you and the rest of the team over comms, “Bucky took off on me while we were still placing them, but I managed to finish. Nat, you, Wanda, and Scott in the clear?”

“We’re clear,” Natasha assured him.

“Sam, grab Clint and meet us out front,” Steve ordered as you neared safety.

“Aye, aye, Cap,” Sam agreed and was off with a swoop.

The three of you clamored out the base doors moments later. Natasha, Wanda, and Scott were standing together patiently as Sam dropped Clint to the ground before following suit.

Seeing the state you all were in Natasha rushed forward, silently concerned. “Get Bucky to the jet,” Steve looked to Sam. It would be an uncomfortable but short flight for Bucky, but Steve was determined to get him settled and stable as quick as possible. Without a word, Sam strode forward and held Bucky as gently as he could manage before taking off for the clearing. 

“Move out,” Steve took command once more, and the team began a hasty run for the quinjet. 

The team piled into the jet and Steve, after taking one last headcount, lingered at the bay door. With a grim look of determination, he pressed the button on the detonator, watching a second later as the building exploded into flames.

Climbing inside the jet, he slammed the control for the doors and ordered Clint to get them airborne. Bucky was laying across the seats in the back, lab coat still pressed to his stomach, and Wanda murmuring softly to him. She was using a hint of her powers to keep him calm and take the pain away. Sometimes she thought of her powers as a curse, but to you they were a gift. Especially in moments like this.

You shook yourself from your stupor, grabbing some cloth and wiping the blood from your face. When you were mostly presentable, you found Steve, Sam, and Nat conversing in hushed tones near the middle of the jet. You didn’t care about protocol or manners now, inserting yourself into the group without hesitation.

“What do we do?” you interrupted, looking to Steve for answers. Steve Rogers always knew what to do. “He needs a doctor. We can’t go to a hospital, or the new Avengers facility, or we’ll be arrested. And we don’t have the time to fly to South Korea to see Dr. Cho.”

“Dr. Cho isn’t in South Korea,” Nat revealed, her voice steady and strong. “And I know where we’re going.”

“I don’t like it,” Steve frowned, crossing his arms pensively.

“Trust me,” she stared him down. “He’s hardheaded, but he won’t turn you away. Or turn you in,” she added in bemusement. 

“Fine,” he grumbled, sharing a nervous look with Sam. “But if things go sideways…”

“I know,” she nodded, “go check on Bucky. I’ve got a call to make.” Steve was reluctant to end the argument there, but did as she said. 

“I hope you know what you’re doing,” Sam laughed with a shake of his head, before joining Steve and Wanda in the back.

“What are you doing?” you pressed, feeling confused and left out. 

Nat looked up at your from beneath her lashes, a tired smirk on her face. “I’m calling Tony.” 

 

“This is a terrible idea,” Clint announced as you neared the roof of what was once Avengers’ tower. “I just want to go on record as saying this is a stupid plan and when we get arrested, I reserve the right to say I told you so.”

“Noted,” Natasha rolled her eyes. Steve’s body grew taut and alert the closer they got to the roof landing. 

“Do you think Tony would sign my Iron Man action figure?” Scott wondered out loud from the co-pilot’s seat. At Nat’s raised eyebrow, he stammered, “I mean, for my daughter. She think’s he’s cool because…lasers…and stuff.”

“This isn’t a friendly visit,” Steve reminded everyone. Your nerves were shot as Clint began to land the quinjet. You make out the figure of Tony Stark waiting near the door to the roof, Dr. Cho and a small medical team waiting to the side. What once was a welcome sight made you anxious. 

The bay door opened and Steve lifted Bucky once more, heading for the gurney the med team had brought with them. The rest of you began to file out of the jet slowly, cautiously, even Natasha. 

“Welcome home, Romanoff,” Tony greeted with a too wide grin. “I see you brought guests.” 

“We have a truce, remember,” she snarked, and Tony shrugged ambivalently. 

“So I hear,” he smirked. “A parley, if you will.”

“Like in Pirates of the Caribbean,” Scott broke in excitedly.

“Exactly, my friend. A meeting of Captains, to negotiate…” Tony agreed, before taking a better look at Scott. “Wait, who are you again?”

“That didn’t hurt,” Scott mumbled to himself. “Scott Lang, better known as Ant Man. Big fan.”

“Right, nifty piece of tech there. I’d love to check it out sometime, when we aren’t trying to kill each other,” Tony added with a flourish.

“Nobody is trying to kill each other now,” you reminded him with a frown. “Bucky needs help.”

“Kid needs a lot more help than I can give him,” Tony muttered, watching nurses load Bucky onto the stretcher as Wanda did her best to keep from lashing out. “But we can patch him up. After that, the Terminator is your problem. And if anyone asks, you were never here.” 

You nodded tersely, watching as Dr. Cho and her staff began to lead Steve, Wanda, and Bucky into the building and to the elevator.

“Might as well follow the good doctor,” Tony said with a wave of his hand, allowing you, Sam, Clint and Scott to pass by. “And you and I need to have a chat about stealing my stuff and the merits of not doing that,” he murmured to Nat as she walked by. The redhead merely grinned.

 

 

Staring at Bucky as he lay in the cradle left you feeling torn.

The bullet when through cleanly. He didn’t even need surgery in the end, now that the cradle could be used to heal the wound and create new skin. He had lost a good amount of blood after their escape from the base but Dr. Cho already had an IV in him to replenish his body.

You should be happy that he was going to be okay. And you were. But then you looked at his face, and the guilt and worry came.

His eyes were wide, watching everything apprehensively. His mouth was tight, lips pressed together anxiously. His hands were clenched at his side, his metal fist actually ripping the sheets in its grip.

Bucky was terrified.

You could hardly blame him. HYDRA tortured him in unspeakable ways for decades. You didn’t know all the details and Bucky didn’t like to share them, but you knew a lot of it involved doctors, IVs, machines that would rip his mind away. Being surrounded by medical staff, lying in a strange machine with an IV essentially trapping him to the bed was a nightmare for him.

Wanda remained in the room. She gave him space, remaining in corner by the viewing window. She did her best to give him peaceful thoughts, and it helped considering Bucky wasn’t fighting the doctor. But she couldn’t completely take away his fear, it was so deeply rooted.

Steve was a few feet away, talking quietly with the doctor. From the occasional side-glance, you could see that Dr. Cho’s demeanor was positive, and that made you feel a little more at ease. After a moment, Steve shook the doctor’s hand and she stepped back into the procedure room to check on Bucky’s progress.

You could feel Steve join you at the viewing window. Your gaze never wavered from Bucky, but you could feel his best friend’s staring at you.

“I’m sorry,” you mumbled, dropping your head a bit shamefully. “This is my fault.”

“You didn’t shoot him,” Steve remarked calmly.

“I might as well have,” you sighed, turning to look the Captain in the eye. “I broke rank, I went after Rumlow by myself. Bucky was trying to help me. And he got shot. I saw what was going to happen and I tried to stop it. I stabbed the son of a bitch and he still shot him.”

“I could lecture you about following orders and not compromising the team,” Steve offered, “but sometimes rules have to broken and commands have to be ignored. You do what you think is right and hope everything works out in the end. Doesn’t mean it’s always the right decision, but…”

You looked up at him in askance when he paused. Steve gave you a slight smile. 

“But I understand it,” he shrugged. “Bucky, he’s…I had my orders. And I didn’t follow them, because he’s more important. I bend my rules for him, and I think you do too.”

“Steve…” you didn’t know what to say.

“He needs someone who cares about him. Not just me,” he shook his head sadly, “I knew the old Bucky. And someday, I hope we can get back to what we were. Be the friends we were. But he needs someone who didn’t know him before. Not as James or the Winter Soldier. Someone who doesn’t expect him to be someone he’s not. And I think you can be that person.”

“I’d like to be,” you said softly. 

“When he’s out of the cradle and resting, you should go and see him,” Steve suggested with a small smile. “As great as Wanda is, I’m pretty sure he’d rather you keep him company.”

Steve gave your shoulder a friendly squeeze before taking a step back and looking to the elevator in the distance. “I’ve got to take care of something,” he heaved a sigh. “Watch out for him, will you?”

You nodded, furrowing your brow curiously. “Where are you going?”

“Tony wants to talk,” he frowned, “Something about pirates?”

“Parley,” you grinned, smothering a tiny chuckle. “Give him a chance, Steve. He might surprise you.” He granted you a lopsided smile before walking down the hall towards the elevator. There was no guarantee this negotiation would end in peace, but it was a good first start.

 

Between Wanda’s manipulations and Dr. Cho’s generous dose of sedatives when she saw how frightened he truly was, Bucky was now feeling almost pleasant. His eyes were heavy as he strained to open them, the light in the room felt a little too bright. There was still an IV in his arm, and some small device on his finger, but the cradle was gone. No longer completely surrounded by machines, Bucky allowed himself to relax slightly.

He wasn’t in the procedure room, but lying in a bed, listening the beeps of a heart monitor, strangely calm. 

He lifted his flesh hand to rub his eyes, surprised when he felt it brush something. Looking to his side, he gave a hint of smile when he saw your head resting on the edge of the bed, arms pillowing it beneath. Your hair was a little all over the place, brushing against his hand as he tried to gently smooth it down.

The feeling of a hand in your hair woke you, and you tilted your head up to see Bucky looking down at you.

“How are you feeling?” you voice had a little rasp to it.

“Good,” he considered, “kind of fuzzy?”

“Fuzzy is good,” you grinned. “No pain?”

He shook his head, picking at the shirt he had been changed into, lifting the edge to take a look at his stomach. Finding only smooth skin where a bullet hole should be, he ran the tips of his fingers over it in faint amazement.

“I…” you hesitated, tentatively taking his hand in your own, feeling a little more confident when he laced his fingers with yours. “I should thank you. For saving me.”

He looked away, and you could swear you saw his face flush. “Wasn’t going to let him hurt you.”

“I’m sorry that I couldn’t stop him from—” you choked up, “I was too slow.”

“You did good,” Bucky assured you, “I’m still here.”

“Nat would have done better,” you muttered deprecatingly. 

“You’re not Natasha,” he said firmly, tugging on your hand to get you to look him in the eye. “And I…I don’t want you to be.” You couldn’t contain your watery smile.

Bucky shifted on the bed, scooting over and making room for you. “You’re tired and I’m drugged,” he shrugged, “let’s get some shut eye.”

You reluctantly let go of his hand to climb on the bed beside him, a little surprised when he lifted his arm so you could curl into his side. It didn’t take much to get comfortable. Medical bay or not, Tony didn’t skimp on quality and the bed was delightfully plush. And it didn’t hurt that Bucky made a nice pillow.

“I’m glad you’re okay,” you mumbled as you lay your head on his chest.

“I’m kind of glad I got shot,” he admitted with a small chuckle. You looked up at him incredulously and he grinned. “It got you to climb in bed with me.”

“Don’t make a habit of it,” you said dryly, rolling your eyes. Leaning forward, Bucky rested his forehead on yours, and you closed your eyes as you just enjoyed the chance to be close to him.

The brush of his lips on yours made you sigh, pressing your mouth to his firmly and allaying his fears of rejection. You could feel him smile against your lips and you felt the first hints of happiness in a long time. 

Bucky pulled back slightly, dropping a tiny kiss on the top of your head before letting his head fall back into the pillow, tired but content. You curled your arm around his middle, resting your head on his chest, and allowed your eyes to close.

A half an hour later, on the orders of Steve, Natasha went to check on Bucky and found the two of you nestled together, fast asleep. She smiled, a bit sentimental and a little mournful. She and the Winter Soldier would never have worked, she knew. But you and Bucky? It just made sense. She didn’t have it in her heart to feel jealous or cheated.

Besides, if there was someone in this world that deserved a little slice of happiness, it was Bucky Barnes.


End file.
